Unicorn || Reflections 🌈 (an original poem)

I am a unicorn. I am a unicorn. I am a...unicorn? Why was I just called out by my professor for answering a triple integral correctly?
To be put on a pedestal because he had never had a female student in linear systems respond with a confident wind and a bold voice. I got 5 bonus points that day toward my final.
None of my male counters would even get close to smelling a bonus point - even if they mentally calculated and recited the Golden ratio's proportions on Mona Lisa's smug smile.
Before I was a unicorn, I was Mona Lisa.
I smelled the victorious roses of stepping above my male counters and wore my painted smug poker face throughout class.
I wore it silently - I wore it loud and proud.
Until my professor boomed that loaded flattery.
It must be great to be the unicorn of the class, he said.

I choked on the stench of those same rotting roses of victory that melted into pity. A societal unconsciousness loaded with pity on my estrogen-filled body, mind and soul. That is why diversity matters. [Women in STEAM] should not become the unicorns of STEAM just because we're the only pretty things in the room.

No - we will be the unicorns because we earned our stripes alongside everybody else.